Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(86)

Hearing the sound, Matthew drew a ragged breath and searched for self-control. He found none. There was only need. Lost in the desire to fill her with pleasure, he undressed her right there on the floor, his palms stroking her chilled skin until the pale surface was steeped in a severe blush.

Trembling wildly, Daisy watched the candlelight shimmer over his dark head as he bent over her body, scattering kisses in unhurried paths…her legs, her bare stomach, her quivering br**sts.

Everywhere he kissed her, the cold shaking dissolved into warmth. She sighed and relaxed into the assuaging rhythms of his hands and mouth. As she fumbled to open his shirt, he reached to help her. The rough-woven cloth dropped away to reveal satiny male skin. Somehow it reassured Daisy to see the the shadows of bruises on him, they were proof that she couldn’t be dreaming. She pressed her open mouth to one of the dark marks, touching it with her tongue.

Matthew drew her carefully against him, his hand riding over the curve of her waist and hip with a sensuality that caused gooseflesh to rise on her thighs. Daisy squirmed in mingled pleasure and discomfort as the wool pile of the carpet abraded her oversensitive skin, causing speckles of pain on her bare bottom.

Comprehending the problem, Matthew laughed quietly and pulled her up against him, into his lap. Perspiring and dry-mouthed, Daisy urged her br**sts against his chest. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

His hand cupped over her tingling backside. “You’ll be rubbed raw on the floor.”

“I don’t care, I just want…I want…”

“This?” He rearranged her in his lap until she straddled him, the fabric of his trousers taut beneath her thighs.

Embarrassed and excited, Daisy closed her eyes as she felt him caress the intricate folds of her body, gently layering moisture and sensation over her burning flesh.

Daisy’s arms felt weak as she slid them around his neck and wrapped the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. If it weren’t for the support of his hard arm across her back, she wouldn’t have been able to stay upright. All awareness was focused on the place where he touched her, the slide of his knuckle around the tiny silky-wet cusp…“Don’t stop,” she heard herself whisper again.

Her eyes snapped open as Matthew eased two fingers inside her, and then three, while desire writhed inside her like flames feeding on burning honey.

“Still afraid it’s a dream?” Matthew whispered.

She swallowed convulsively and shook her head. “I…I never have dreams like this.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, and he withdrew his fingers, leaving her shuddering with emptiness. She whimpered and dropped her head on his flexing shoulder, and he hugged her securely against his na**d chest.

Daisy clung to him, her vision misting until the room was a mosaic of yellow light and black shadow. She felt herself being lifted, turned, her knees pressing into the carpet as he helped her to kneel before the settee. The side of her face pressed against the smooth upholstery, while her lips parted to accomodate her hard-rushing breaths. He covered her, his big, solid body fitting behind and around her, and then he was pushing inside, and the fit between them was tight and slippery and exquisite.

Daisy stiffened in surprise, but his hands came to her hips, stroking in reassurance, encouraging her to trust him. She went still, her eyes closing while pleasure rose with each slow thrust he made. One of his hands swept down her front, and his fingertips found the plump rise of her sex and caressed her until she reached a bright blinding summit, overtaken with shudders of sharp relief.

Much later, Matthew dressed Daisy in her nightgown and carried her through the dark hallway until they reached her room. As he lay her in bed, she whispered for him to stay with her.

“No, love.” He leaned over her prone body in the darkness. “Much as I’d like to, we can’t go that far beyond propriety.”

“I don’t want to sleep without you.” Daisy stared into the shadowed face just above her own. “And I don’t want to wake without you.”

“Someday.” He bent to press a firm kiss on her mouth. “Someday I’ll be able to come to you any time, night or day, and hold you as long as you want.” His voice deepened with emotion as he added, “You can depend on that.”

Downstairs, the exhausted earl of Westcliff lay on a sofa, his head pillowed in his wife’s lap. After two days of relentless searching and precious little sleep, Marcus was weary down to his bones. However, he was grateful that tragedy had been avoided and that Daisy’s fiance had been safely returned.

Marcus was a bit surprised by the way his wife had fussed over him. As soon as he had arrived at the manor, Lillian had plied him with sandwiches and hot brandy, wiped the dirt smudges from his face with a damp towel, applied salve on his scrapes and bandages to a few cut fingers, and even pulled his muddy boots off.

“You look far worse than Mr. Swift,” Lillian had retorted when he had protested that he was fine. “From what I understand he’s been lying abed in a cottage for the past two days, whereas you’ve been foraging through the woods in the mud and rain.”

“He wasn’t exactly lounging about,” Marcus had pointed out. “He was wounded.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve had no rest and practically nothing to eat while you were looking for him.”

Marcus had submitted to her attentions, secretly enjoying the way she hovered over him. When she was satisfied that he was fed and bandaged properly, she cradled his head in her lap. Marcus sighed in contentment, staring into the blazing hearth-fire.